


She Never Wanted to Leave

by Phylwannabe



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, F/F, POV Gilly (ASoIaF), POV Samwell Tarly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27200909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phylwannabe/pseuds/Phylwannabe
Summary: Sam and Gilly Tarly are a young couple who have just moved to Winterfell. They love their new home, but it becomes clear quite quickly that they are not alone.
Relationships: Gilly & Samwell Tarly, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 64





	She Never Wanted to Leave

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Halloween offering, but it is not so scary as sad. I hope it is not too sad, but no promises! I have tried to make the ending satisfying if bittersweet. I hope you will like it and give it a chance. It features one of my favorite tunes from GOT.

The sweet little bungalow has been on the market for nearly three years when the Tarlys purchase it. Sam and Gilly are new to the community, having relocated to Winterfell from a small village just north of Last Hearth. They are delighted by their find; the house is priced well below market value, it is in pristine condition, and it is clear to them that whoever last renovated the house was a master craftsman who took great pride in his work. They quickly settle in to their dream home.

It soon becomes evident that there is something strange going on. At odd times, but most often in the very early morning, Sam and Gilly see dark streaks that appear seemingly out of nowhere and then slowly ooze across the hall floor leading from their bedroom into the kitchen only to disappear when full daylight arrives. Several times they have woken to a woman’s screams but when they turn the bedroom lights on, no one is there and the terrified shrieks stop as quickly as they started. Occasionally, they have heard water running and when they go into the bathroom they find the shower is on and the mirror is fogged up but, of course, no one is there. Gilly is often at home by herself and when her husband returns in the evening, it is hard for her to find the words to describe to him the eerie feeling she sometimes gets while standing at the kitchen sink; she often feels invisible but strong arms enfold her, filling her with warmth and security, and just before the not entirely unwanted feeling goes away, she always hears snatches of an old song that ends with the word ... _leave_. Sam is understandably skeptical until one day when he stays home to nurse a cold, he wanders into the kitchen only to find Gilly standing stock still, her hands in soapy water, as the back of her sweater ripples as if stroked by an unseen lover’s hands. Sam coughs and the movement stops but then he too hears a whispered phrase, _She never wanted to leave_. 

The Tarlys are smart; Sam especially is a well read, scholarly man and they both agree that rational, educated people do not believe in ghosts or spirits. Still after a few months it becomes obvious that there is a presence, or maybe more than one, with whom they are sharing their cozy little house. Sam is the new head librarian at the Winterfell Public Library so he begins to do some research and quickly discovers that their home was the scene of a horrific crime that happened three years before on Halloween night. Gilly comes to the library and uses the microfilm machine to scroll through past editions of the _Winterfell Gazette_. She takes notes and shares them with Sam as they huddle around their coffee table in front of the fire. It is October and only three weeks remain until Halloween. While neither of them want to admit it, they wonder if the curious events they have already witnessed will ramp up exponentially on All Hallows Eve. 

Sam makes an appointment with the officer who was in charge of what they learn is commonly known around town as _The Stark Sadness_. Detective Theon Greyjoy takes Gilly and Sam to a back room at the police station and doggedly answers their questions even though it is obviously painful for him. Gilly uses her open friendliness and sympathetic nature to get Greyjoy to talk and they learn that of the three victims that terrible night, two - Sansa Stark and Jon Snow - had been Theon’s childhood friends. 

_Three Years Before, All Saints Day_

Sansa wakes up to bright sunshine and a dead man lying next to her. She can’t really remember anything specific about the night before or the costume party she had attended, just disquieting vague impressions of bright lights, loud music, and something about her last drink, _was it the fourth or fifth_ , that didn’t taste quite right. 

She freezes as she looks over at the body next to her. The corpse is already stiff so clearly his death happened hours ago. She shudders as she questions herself: _How could I have slept next to a lifeless body for hours without sensing that something was wrong?_

Sansa lifts herself up on one elbow and tentatively leans over the body. It is Ramsey Bolton and he is certainly dead, as dead as a white walker and five times as still. She gasps as she realizes the cause of his demise: a surgically thin slice that runs across the width of his neck, just below his Adam’s apple. The blood has congealed around the wound and the rest of the blood, oh gods!, the rest of the blood has spread down his body, through the sheets, and has likely soaked deep into the mattress. 

Sansa propels herself away from the body and jumps to the floor. She has to get away, she needs help, she needs someone to make this all better, she needs,......Jon! She grabs her robe from the bedside chair and wraps it around herself as she frantically looks for her cell phone. It isn’t in the charger on her bedside table. When she finally finds it in her purse, her trembling fingers can’t seem to make it work. She frantically runs her fingers through her long hair, her diamond engagement ring pulling on some of the strands that have tangled together in her sleep. _I have to get help_.

She steps barefoot around the bed, refusing to spare another glance at the gruesome scene laid out before her. She will escape this room, make her way to the next door neighbor’s house, and call Jon. He loves her and he will know what to do! _Jon always knows exactly how to make things right_! 

Still woozy, her head throbbing, Sansa looks down as she steps across the carpeted floor and halts, horrified, as she notices that her normally pristine carpet is marred with dark brown streaks. Even though her head is spinning, Sansa is still able to recognize that the streaks are leading out of the bedroom, rather than toward the bed where Ramsey lays soaked in his own blood. Holding her breath she tip-toes to the door and looks down the hallway. More of the same - long streaks running along the light pine flooring that her boyfriend, Jon Snow, had installed for her when she moved into the little house just last year. 

She moves into the hallway, avoiding stepping what she now accepts is blood even as she follows its sinister path. The hallway opens into her living room. The lights are on but no one is in the room. She shudders as she notices that the dark line continues on into the kitchen.

She automatically reaches for the dagger that is displayed in a place of honor on her mantel. It is a Stark heirloom, Valyrian steel, and rumored to have been the very weapon that the legendary Arya Stark used to kill the Night King eons ago. She knows those stories are just myths and legends, _tales of grumkins and snarks_ , but Sansa has still always treasured this tangible evidence of her female ancestor’s bravery and courage in the face of an implacable enemy. Sansa gasps as she realizes the dagger is missing from the display case! 

_Was her dagger used to kill Ramsey? If so, who took it? Is that someone still in her house?_ Terrified, fear shooting adrenaline through her body, she rushes into the kitchen, determined to reach the back door and safety when she suddenly stops and lets out an unearthly shriek, then collapses to her knees.

Halfway between Sansa and the back door, the trail of blood she has been following ends abruptly at another body. She doesn’t have to look twice to know who is laying there. _Jon!_ Sobbing, she slides across the floor, and when she reaches him, she grabs his left hand, frantically searching for a pulse, for any sign of life. There is none and Sansa again recognizes the rigidity of someone already hours dead. Sansa weeps as she cradles Jon in her arms and futilely tries to breath life back into the man she loves. He is as beautiful in death as in life, his dark lashes fanning across his pale face, his lips full and sweet, his face unmarred by whatever tragedy befell him. As she pulls back and begins to look for the cause of his death, Sansa immediately notices two things: the Valyrian dagger, coated with blood, is clasped in Jon’s other hand, and there is a ragged hole in Jon’s chest, a gunshot wound located tragically near his heart. 

***************************************

The story Greyjoy shares sounds like a bad horror movie: Sansa Stark was drugged at a costume party held at the castle and was taken home by her ex-boyfriend, Ramsey Bolton. No one paid attention at the time when Sansa was half carried from the party by a masked man, but all who saw her presumed that the man was her fiance’, Jon Snow, and that the couple had decided to call it a night, having better things on their mind than dancing to the _Monster Mash_ and _Thriller_ with an increasingly drunken crowd.

Theon shares that Sansa had previously obtained a restraining order against Bolton after she fled his home at the Dreadfort and returned to Winterfell, but that obviously hadn’t stopped the prick from making her life a living hell until Jon Snow had come into the picture. Jon was ex-military, a Ranger of the Night’s Watch, decorated for bravery beyond the Wall. Jon and Sansa had fallen in love - Theon told Sam and Gilly that everyone in the family actually saw their romance as an inevitable conclusion to something that had started long before when they were both just kids. The young couple had become engaged and had begun making big plans. Sansa had bought a house with a portion of the inheritance she received from her grandmother Tully’s estate and Jon had then taken on the task of remodeling the little cottage before they got married. Word of his skill got around Winterfell and soon he was swamped with so many requests to take on other remodeling projects that he actually went into business for himself. He was making really good money and was saving every penny for his new life with Sansa. They had set a wedding date for spring of the next year and although he spent a lot of time at Sansa’s house, Jon had yet to move in officially. 

Sansa didn’t show up for work on the day after Halloween and that was so unlike her that her best friend, Margaery Tyrell, had worriedly called Sansa’s mother. When Catelyn Tully’s frantic calls didn’t raise her daughter, she had called the police, asking for Theon Greyjoy in particular. 

Theon swallowed hard and wiped his eyes before continuing. 

Arriving at Sansa’s home, Theon and his partner, Mance Rayder, had found a gruesome scene. Between interviews, and a detailed forensic examination of the bodies, they had been able to piece together what had happened that Halloween night. Jon had received a phone call at his apartment telling him that his good friend, Tormund Giantsbane, had been involved in an accident on the way to the Wall and was in a hospital two hours away from Winterfell. Jon had texted Sansa that he wasn’t going to be able to make the costume party, but Sansa never saw the message. Her phone was later found in her purse, the battery removed, clearly an act by Ramsey or someone acting for him. The call to Jon had been bogus; Tormund had been at home with his girlfriend and was nowhere near the Wall. Bolton had obviously laid his plans carefully. 

Theon related that six months prior, he had been present when Jon had beat the ever loving shit out of Bolton in retaliation for threats Ramsey had made toward Sansa while she was at work. Theon brushed a trembling hand across his eyes as he told a solemn Sam and Gilly that his biggest regret was that he had pulled Jon off of Ramsey that night. _If I had just let him kill the bastard then and there, none of this would have happened and Jon and Sansa would be alive and married now_.

Theon cleared his throat again and continued while Gilly grasped Sam’s hand tightly. 

Once Jon realized he had been duped, he had driven like a bat from all seven hells to get back home. Mance sleuthing revealed that Ramsey had bribed a hospital guard to waylay Jon, but that plan failed when Jon exited the hospital sooner than anticipated, having obviously sussed out that he was the victim of a hoax. Theon and Mance were both sure that Jon had felt an overwhelming need to get home as soon as he could, worried for Sansa and convinced that Ramsey might be behind his unnecessary trip.

When Jon got to the house, he had seen Ramsey’s car parked on the street. He had entered the house unarmed and charged into the bedroom. On his way, Jon had grabbed Sansa’s heirloom, the famous Stark dagger, and had used it to slit Ramsey’s throat where he lay. Sansa had evidently woken up as Jon hovered over his victim. Traces of a synthetic form of the deadly _Tears of Lys_ had been found in her system. The manufactured version of the lethal drug was designed not to kill but to cause, first hallucinations and later, an almost coma like sleep. Sansa had seen Ramsey, then Jon, and in her compromised state, had obviously confused the two. Evidently she had shot Jon with the pistol that Jon had insisted she carry for protection. 

Fatally wounded, Jon had tried to reach the kitchen where he had left his phone. By the time he managed to drag himself down the hallway, he didn’t have enough strength left to grab the phone off the counter. He had collapsed and died almost immediately. The medical examiner had said Sansa’s aim had been tragically deadly. One shot to the heart. Sansa had passed out in the bed next to a dead Ramsey as her lover bled out in the kitchen. 

_Later on All Saints Day_

Sansa doesn’t remember walking back to the bedroom. She no longer sees Ramsey’s body. The blood which completely covers her bed no longer registers. She finds the small revolver and remembers Jon’s stern admonition to always check the chamber. One bullet is missing, but there is another and one will most certainly be enough. As she pulls a comb from the contents of her open purse, and begins to ease the tangles from her long hair, she starts to hum Jon’s favorite tune. Her romantic boy had always loved the old tales and none more so than the story of Prince Duncan Targaryen and his ill-fated love for the humble Jenny of Oldstones. Jon often asked Sansa to lend her clear dulcet tones to the old song. _It is the least she can do, sing it just once more for her Jon_. 

Sansa’s voice drifts through the house. _High in the hall of the Kings who are gone,_  
 _Jenny would dance with her ghosts. The ones she had lost and the ones she had found, and the who had loved her the most._

She looks down. She has a pillow and a blanket in her hands. Jon is lying at an awkward angle and while he is too heavy for her to move him by herself, she will nevertheless do her best to make him more comfortable. Then they will both get some sleep and when they wake up, everything will be just fine. Jon can make anything better! 

_The ones who’ve been gone for so very long, She couldn’t remember their names, They spun her around on the damp cold stone, Spun away all her sorrow and pain._

Sansa places the pillow under Jon’s head and she smiles as she runs a trembling hand through his lovely dark curls, spreading them across the pillow. She covers him with the blanket and then crosses his strong, gentle hands over his chest. 

Sansa kneels down beside Jon and then angles her body until she is leaning against the kitchen island, one hand in Jon’s curls, the other wrapped around the small revolver, still humming softly: _And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave, never wanted to....._

**************************************

Sam and Gilly drive back to their little house in stunned silence. Gilly had ended up crying just as hard as Theon while he described the scene which confronted he and Mance when they entered Sansa’s kitchen. His childhood friend had been laying across Jon’s chest, blood seeping from the wound to her temple, her body still warm. Theon had broken down as he explained that the medical examiner ruled that Sansa Stark had died only moments before they arrived. _If only we had gotten there just a few minutes earlier, we might have stopped her, saved her life! Jon would never have wanted her to die like that. He would have wanted her to live!_

Sam and Gilly spend another week dealing with the otherworldly. As they feared, as Halloween draws ever closer, the eerie happenings are escalating. The bedroom lights turn off and on without explanation, the screams increase, particularly at midnight and then, again, just at daybreak. Gilly, brave as she is, runs out of the house the first time she sees her hairbrush waving in the air as if wielded by an unseen hand. The worst part is that they both have a palpable sense that the invisible spirit is suffering. They discuss the evidence in the light of day and both come to an agreement: the troubled spirit is that of Sansa Stark. She is agitated, unable to accept that she killed the man she loves. As a result, Sansa is unable to find peace and thus cannot pass over to the next life. While Sam immerses himself in ancient tomes concerning ghosts and their removal while at the library, it is Gilly, ever practical, who hits upon a solution. 

When Sam arrives home that evening, she offers him a hot chocolate and urges him to sit beside her on their couch. Gilly explains that while Sansa is obviously agitated, angry even, and “acting out” as a result, she believes there is yet a calming influence in the house that has kept Sansa from becoming an actively violent poltergeist.

“Why do you suppose Sansa hasn’t done anything to actually hurt us, Sam?”, she asks as she wraps her hand around the warm mug. Sam shrugs and gives Gilly a hapless little grin, “I dunno, Gills, because she sees that we are nice and that we love her little house?” Gilly purses her lips and sits her drink down, placing her hands on either side of his round face. “That could be, Sam, that could be part of it, but I think,....no, somehow, I _know_ it is because of Jon.” 

Gilly rises from her seat and moves to stand before the fireplace, gazing into the fire. “Sam, I think Jon’s spirit is here too, waiting for Sansa to go with him to, well, wherever it is that spirits go. I think Jon is ready to move on, but he won’t leave without Sansa.” 

Sam reaches for her hand and grasps it. “And you believe that the presence you have felt in the house, especially in the kitchen area, is Jon’s ghost?”

Gilly nods and turns to face her husband, clasping her hands together, eyes shining. “I do, Sam, and I think I may know just what we need to do to help Sansa and Jon.”

*********************************************

It is All Hallows Eve. During the early evening hours, while children gleefully ring the doorbell at the little bungalow, Sam and Gilly hand out candy and, in between answering the door, eat their traditional Halloween meal of chili and grilled cheese sandwiches. Somehow in all the excitement, no one questions them regarding the screams that occasionally erupt from the house as the door opens nor about the household items that are clearing floating through the air behind them. Youngsters believe it is really cool that the town’s new librarian and his wife are so into Halloween that they take the time to decorate, while the adults accompanying them just swallow hard and look the other way. Sam and Gilly just duck to avoid the flying objects, smile at the children, and try to stay calm. They are prepared for a long night. 

At 9:00 p.m. Sam locks the front door and he and Gilly scurry to finish their plans for the second part of the evening. At 11:00 the doorbell rings again and they open the door to receive their first guests, ushering them into the small living room. The modest furniture has been pushed against the walls and folding chairs, which Sam has borrowed from the library, are placed in the center of the room, nine chairs on each side of an aisle that ends at the fireplace. A small lectern has been set up opposite the fireplace and on a table to the side, a beautiful vase of winter roses is displayed. 

Theon has come and he has brought Mance and his wife with him. Both men grimly accept Gilly’s offer of mulled apple cider, but when she turns away, Theon pulls a flask from his jacket and adds his own brand of courage into both of their cups. 

Tormund Giantsbane and his girlfriend, introduced as Brienne Tarth, are there too. The big man  
envelops both Gilly and Sam in an enormous bear hug, drawing back to swipe his big paw across his eyes and to thank them for trying to give “my little crow” some peace. Brienne whispers to Gilly that while Jon had been in the Watch, he had saved Tormund’s life more than once when they were ranging beyond the Wall. For her own part, Brienne has known Sansa since she was a small girl and loves her as if she was her own daughter.

As the mantel clock’s hands move inexorably toward midnight, Sansa’s family begins to arrive. Robb Stark arrives with his wife, Talisa. It is obvious that Robb would like to be anywhere but in the house where his sister and his best friend died. He growls to Sam that he doesn’t buy any of this foolishness and he is here only because his parents have begged him to come. _“I won’t be the cause of any more sorrow in their lives. My mother and father have suffered enough.”_ Talisa then pulls Robb away to greet Theon and Margaery who has arrived as well. 

Besides the cider, Gilly has prepared caramel popcorn, and lemon cakes (Margaery shared with her that they were Sansa’s favorite dessert), not because she thinks anyone will really want to eat, but because she somehow knows that Sansa would appreciate the effort. After all, everything she has learned about the former occupant of her home is that she was a great hostess.

Arya Stark and her boyfriend, Gendry Baratheon, arrive next. Gilly wasn’t sure if Arya would come; after all, she is in school at White Harbor, which is several hours away. But something had happened during their conversation which had clearly persuaded Arya to make the trip. Gilly had been sitting at the kitchen table, talking to Arya via facetime when her hairbrush from the bedroom suddenly appeared out of nowhere and started brushing an invisible head of hair just behind Gilly. Sam was nervously convinced that Arya was coming with the sole aim of proving that the Tarlys were charlatans and once she had exposed them, she intended to beat them senseless.

Finally, a mere ten minutes before midnight, Catelyn and Ned Stark arrive, flanked by their handsome teenage sons, Bran and Rickon, whose solemn eyes mirror the same distrust Sam has already seen in Robb’s glower. Right behind them is Maester Luwin. Sam has learned that Luwin was head of the local sept when the Stark children were all born and that he has christened each of them. The Maester will be an essential part of their plan.

Gilly’s eyes shine with unshed tears as she grasps Catelyn’s hands and leads her to a chair in the front row. “Thank you so much for coming, for believing in us.” Catelyn merely nods. It is clear she is also fighting tears and is unable to speak. Sam kindly points Ned toward the seat next to his wife. Sam stands back, taking note of two things: first, as he sits down heavily, Ned automatically, without conscious thought, wraps Catelyn into himself, his larger body enveloping her smaller one with a warm, affectionate embrace. Second, all of the Stark kids move as a pack to welcome their Mum and Dad and to share with them what comfort they can provide. It is obvious that the Starks are a close knit, loving family. Sam glances at Gilly and he know she is thinking the same thing he is: _We cannot disappoint this family. We have to be right about this._

Sam takes the Maester’s hat and coat and then leads him to the lectern. It is five minutes to midnight. Sam motions for everyone to take a seat and then clears his throat to speak.

“Thank you all for coming. Gilly and I really appreciate it. We know this all seems a bit weird, well, actually, truth be told, a bit crazy, but if Gilly is right, and I think she is, we believe you will all be very glad that you are here tonight.”

Gilly moves to Sam’s side and in her clear, Northern tones begins to describe the things that they have experienced since moving into the little house months before. She tells them that she thinks Sansa’s spirit is trapped in the house, unable to leave because she cannot accept what she did to Jon. Sam watches the reactions of their little audience and he sees a gamut of emotions: obvious resentment on the faces of the younger Starks with a hint of something potentially violent in Arya’s glare; open scepticism from Theon and Mance; a touching hint of trust in the faces of Margery, Tormund, and Brienne. But it is the look on Ned and Catelyn’s faces that grabs his soft heart and twists it into a cramped knot. While they are clearly still devastated at the loss of their daughter, the sweet couple s sadness is tempered with a fearful, tentative hope that is painful to see. Sam hopes, not for the first time, that Gilly is right and that they can bring this family some closure tonight. 

Sam resumes after Gilly finishes her summary of the spectral evidence. “We have asked you here tonight to help us summon Sansa and Jon. What we think you will see in a few minutes will be hard to explain, but,” and here, Sam grasps Gilly’s hand in his own, and gives it a squeeze, “we believe in love, and we think that your love for Jon and Sansa can help them find peace.” 

He steps aside then and turns off the lights, leaving the room bathed only in dim candlelight and the soft glow from the fireplace. Sam and Gilly move to the front row opposite Ned and Catelyn and take their seats. Gilly then speaks in a clear voice, “Jon Snow. Sansa Stark. Your friends and family are here to see you exchange your wedding vows.” 

Arya blurts out, _“Bollocks!”_ only to be shushed by Gendry. Catelyn is sobbing aloud now and Sam has a crazy urge to turn the lights on and just end it all. But Gilly calmly persists. “Sansa, your mother is here to help you get ready for your wedding. There’s not much time and you don’t want to keep Jon waiting.”

Robb growls, “Father, we need to get Mother out of here, this is,...” his protest cut short by a sudden shriek that reverberates through the house. Maester Luwin has turned pale and is holding on to the lectern for dear life as the shrieks continue, getting louder and louder, coming closer and closer, until suddenly _she_ is there - hovering just a bit above the ground. 

A collective gasp from all present is still not enough to drown out Catelyn as she cries out, “Sansa! Darling Girl!” Rising to her feet, Sansa’s mother moves back down the aisle and extends her hand as the spectral vision of a tall girl clarifies itself. Gilly turns to look; everyone has turned to look. In all the time she and Sam have lived with _Ghost Sansa_ they have never seen her, but now, she is undeniably _there_ , otherworldly, yes, but still clearly visible. Sansa has stopped wailing upon hearing her mother’s voice. She tilts her beautiful head and fixes her piercing blue eyes on her mother, staring as if trying to place this woman who is addressing her. Catelyn speaks again, this time in a low, comforting tone, “Sansa, my dear, you are lovely!” Sansa looks down at herself; she is dressed in a simple white dress, an off the shoulder look with a fitted bodice from which a flowing chiffon like skirt extends that ends just above her slim ankles. She is wearing soft flats. Her jewelry consists only of silver hoop earrings and a perfect diamond solitaire on the ring finger of her left hand. 

Gilly somehow knows beyond a doubt that the dress Sansa is wearing was intended for her wedding day and for the first time, she feels a certainty that her crazy idea just may work. Gilly notices that Arya has moved to stand in the aisle next to her mother and that Brienne and Margaery are both crowded right behind Sansa’s little sister. 

Sansa has eyes only for her mother. She tilts her head again, looking a bit lost, and then huffs out a small exasperated sigh. “Mama, my hair,” as she extends the hairbrush she is holding toward her mother. Catelyn reaches for it and when she touches the brush, amazingly, Sansa suddenly seems more solid, _more real_. 

Catelyn coos as she runs her hand down Sansa’s long tresses, “I think a simple long braid would do just fine, don’t you, dear. A northern look for a northern bride.” As she runs the brush down Sansa’s auburn hair, Sansa closes her eyes and blissfully sighs, “That’s perfect, Mama.” 

No one in the room dares breathe for what seems like an eternity, but is, in reality, only a few minutes. Catelyn works on her daughter’s hair, smoothing out the tangles and then deftly creating a long side braid. As she works, Sansa closes her eyes and sings more of the tune that Sam and Gilly have heard time and time again. _They danced through the day, and into the night, through the snow that swept through the hall. From winter to summer then winter again, Till the walls did crumble and fall._

Catelyn finishes Sansa’s hair and looks around for a tie. Margaery tremulously hands her a lovely blue ribbon and Catelyn smiles, nodding her thanks. She secures the braid, leaving the ribbon trailing down. Eyes glimmering, she runs her hand down Sansa’s hair and nods. “There. All done.” Catelyn tries to cup Sansa’s cheek but stops when her fingers slip through and fail to find actual skin and bone.

Ned rises then and clears his throat. “Daughter,” he whispers. Sansa turns and when she smiles, Sam understands why everyone he spoke to about the dead woman waxed rhapsodic about Sansa’s beauty. She is truly glorious. “Daddy!” she cries and Ned almost breaks then, but by sheer force of will, keeps his composure as he moves down the aisle toward his little girl.   
Ned extends his arm. “Are you ready for your old Da to walk you down the aisle, sweetling?”   
She nods, her sudden happiness somehow sadder to Sam than all the screaming and shrieking of the past months. 

Gilly nudges Sam then and he comes out of his reverie. Of course! A bride must have a groom.   
Sam clears his throat and calls out. “Jon Snow, Sansa is waiting for you. Come and claim your bride.” Almost immediately, a warm glow appears just to the left of Maester Luwin. The light gradually coalesces into the figure of a man, dressed in a white shirt and navy suit. He too looks just as lost as Sansa when he holds out a unmade bow tie with a clear look of confusion on his face. This time it is Robb who jumps up and moves to take the fabric from his best friend. He wraps the length around Jon’s neck while Jon shrugs as if to mock his own ineptitude. Robb finishes, creating a passable bow tie despite the fact that his fingers are obviously trembling. Jon tilts his head in thanks, but then looks down the aisle and suddenly, as he sees Sansa he too seems somehow more solid, _more real_. He smiles then and Gilly blushes to the roots of her hair because if Sansa Stark is beautiful, so too is her intended. Jon waits, hands clasped in front; he stands at attention, slim but broad shouldered, raven curls shining, dark eyes glinting in the firelight, solemn gaze fixed on his bride as Ned guides Sansa to him. 

When Ned steps back to join Catelyn, Maester Luwin clears his throat and begins speaking. “We are gathered here tonight to witness the joining of the,” here Luwin stops, visibly affected as he swallows, then continues, “the souls of Jon and Sansa, to be one now and for eternity. He turns to look at the hovering shapes in front of him, wavering dimly, then becoming more clear, then returning to transparency again. 

“Jon, do you take this woman to be your wife?” Sam and Gilly both lean forward as for the first time, they hear Jon’s voice. His Norther accent is low, warm and thrilling. “Aye, I do.” 

Luwin smiles, then turns to Sansa. “And do you, Sansa, take this man as your husband?” Sansa fixes her eyes on Jon, a look of joy so pure that everyone in the room tears up, as her voice rings out, clear and sure. “I do.” 

Luwin has assured Sam that the unorthodox ceremony will be brief and he does not disappoint. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” A suspended moment as Jon arches a brow toward the Maester, causing him to cough and stammer out, “You may kiss the bride.” Jon smiles then, and sweeps Sansa into his arms, pressing his lips to hers and as their family and friends gaze in amazement, their joined bodies, just for a moment, become as real and substantial as those of the living in the room. When they finally part, Sansa wears a lovely blush and Jon is grinning from ear to ear. They turn in sync and gaze at the small gathering. Jon takes Sansa’s arm and loops it through his own. They smile and wave, Sansa blowing air kisses as the air thickens, their bodies once again becoming translucent. Just as the pair fades completely from sight, a high clear voice sounds out, “Thank you for making me leave, Sam and Gilly,” and a lower baritone joins in as the couple call out in unison. “We love you all!” Then, just before the swirling fog clears, Sansa calls out again, as if from a far, far distance. “Don’t let those lemon cakes go to waste!” 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

_Some years later_

Professor Sam Tarly ends his last class on Friday a bit early. After all, it is the day before Halloween. The DireWolf Fraternity at Winterfell University throws a cracking good costume party every year and Sam knows that the students in his class will want time to prepare. Sam’s understanding of student social life is just one of the reasons that Sam is so popular. Five years ago Sam left his job at the library to take a position teaching at Winterfell and he has risen quickly in the ranks. When Professor Mormont retires next year, Sam has been assured he will be named Dean of Students in his place. Sam smiles fondly as he loads his material into his battered briefcase and heads back to his office.

Beyond a desire to give his students a break, Sam and Gilly have their own costume party to attend. As usual, they will be celebrating All Hallows Eve at the annual Stark party which Sam and Gilly have attended, without fail, for the past twelve years. Sam and Gilly’s children consider Ned and Cat surrogate grandparents and everyone of the Stark siblings dote on little Jon and Sansa as if they were their very own nephew and niece. This year, for the first time, the twins are old enough to stay up the entire time; it doesn’t hurt that Halloween is on a Saturday this year and they can all sleep in the next morning. At least they will be able to snooze until Cat sends Ned up to roust them out of bed for a traditional Stark Sunday brunch. 

Sam grins as he tosses his bag into his car. While Sam is doing well enough now that they could afford more, Gilly will not hear of moving from their first home. The children love the little house just as much as their mother and so, instead of buying a bigger residence, they have added on to the bungalow in order to give their growing family more room. Sam taps his fingers on the steering wheel, a far away look in his eyes. Yes sir, their home is surely something special. 

Sam loads the SUV with their overnight bags and costumes as the twins jockey for position in the back seat. Gilly is locking up and Sam watches fondly as his wife carts her crock pot of chili out the door, flipping the porch light on before locking up. Sam and Gilly have established a lot of new traditions during their time in Winterfell. Oh, they still have chili and grill cheese on Halloween, but now they share it with their extended family: the Starks, the Giantsbanes as well as Theon and Margaery Greyjoy, and the Rayders, among many others. Winterfell is a part of them now and they will never move. Sam smiles at his wife as she huffs into the passenger seat. "All ready, then." Gilly nods and hands each of the children a lemon cake. Sam knows that she has left an entire plate full of the treats on the dining room table. It is yet another tradition their little family maintains. As Sam hums a favorite tune, he pulls into traffic and drives slowly down the street. There is one tradition that he and Gilly consider iron clad and non-negotiable: they never spend Halloween night at home. 

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Dusk arrives early in Winterfell during late October . The young couple contentedly hold hands as they look out their front window, watching as the neighborhood children run to and fro along the street, exasperated parents in tow. They will not answer the door tonight, but their house still has the porch light on and there is a huge basket of candy on the front step with a sign propped beside it that reads, “Have a Happy Halloween!” It is a tradition and every child in Winterfell stops to take a treat. 

This is the one night during the year that they have their home all to themselves and while the world outside their door is celebrating frantically, an evening alone is really the only thing they need in order to make their Halloween complete. As the house gets darker, the lighted candles become more visible and the fireplace sends out a warm glow. The handsome man holds out his hand in invitation and his beautiful wife smiles, sighing happily as she enters his embrace. He runs his fingers through her long auburn braid and brings the tip to his lips. They begin to slow dance all through the house, bodies close, two pairs of feet hovering just off the floor, as the quiet sounds of an old, old tune wafts up into the rafters. 

_And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave, Never wanted to leave, Never wanted to leave._

The End.


End file.
